


it's enough to be better

by alphathorinrock



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, I'm bad at this tagging thing, M/M, but not really?, idk?, mild angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 05:56:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12426411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphathorinrock/pseuds/alphathorinrock
Summary: Kraglin hadn’t spoken to him now for seven consecutive day cycles, and the nights that followed.And Yondu was suffering.





	it's enough to be better

Generally, Yondu didn’t give a crap about the people that he pissed off; he was a natural born smartass. And the less you cared about people, the less it hurt if they ever mysteriously disappeared.

Kraglin, however, was an exception to his general rule, and he did care (more than he’d like to admit) about the idiot. But Kraglin hadn’t spoken to him now for seven consecutive day cycles, and the nights that followed.

And Yondu was suffering.

 

 

 

 

The most annoying thing, which cut deeper than anything else, was that Yondu had _no idea_ what he had even said to piss Kraglin off that much. One second, he was kissing his scruffy neck, getting hot and heavy and having fun, and the next? He was being shoved out of his first mates cabin, his leathers unceremoniously thrown at his head, before the door shut loudly in his face. He could’ve easily overridden the biolock, but there was something in Kraglin’s eyes, a fury and, shit, a _fear,_ that had Yondu dazedly stumbling back to his own cabin. He’d been so caught up in the moment, Yondu’d let his dumb mouth run, and now he was in trouble because of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he was just a young sprog, his mouth got him into trouble a lot, and he always used his fists to get himself out of it. When he was older, and a little wiser, he got better at reining his mouth in, but he’d always manage to save himself with a whistle. However, unfortunately neither of those options would help him get out of this particular predicament.

 

 

 

 

 

Shit, even the crew had begun to notice the hostility between captain and first mate. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have a mutiny on his hands. Kraglin’s responses to commands were always clipped and restrained, never saying more than was necessary. They had the bridge crew worryingly side-eyeing them every few minutes. It was slowly driving Yondu bonkers; he missed Kraglin’s snide comments and creative snark. No matter how hard Yondu tried, Kraglin never took the bait when Yondu tried to rial him up, and he certainly hadn’t paid Yondu’s chambers a visit. Yondu would find himself gazing longingly at the back of Kraglin’s head, trying to work out _why_.

Needless to say, eight days later, he still had no clue.

 

 

 

 

Peter, of all people, was the first to confront him. He managed to corner Yondu in the bogs whilst he was taking his morning piss. He used the few extra inches of height (shit, really gotta stop feedin the kid, he’s getting _big_ ) to stand over him, and threatened him with a pudgy Terran finger shoved into Yondu’s face. He spat vehemently at Yondu, telling him he better fix things with Kraglin, because he didn’t want to have to split his weekends between his dads, whatever the hell that meant. Yondu would’ve happily fixed it, but the thing is, when apologising, it was damn near vital to know what you were apologising _for._

 

 

 

Whenever he thought about The Incident™, which he had done, for the past seven nights, staring at the rusted grates that adorned his cabin ceiling, all he could remember was the feeling of Kraglin’s body pressed against his, the prickle of Kraglin’s stubble on his lips, the smell of sweat and leather and eager skin, and a buzzing noise as his blue blood rushed through his ears… nothing more, nothing less.

He certainly didn’t remember distinct words, didn’t even remember making his mouth do anything except kiss. But obviously he’d said _something_.

There was only one person who actually knew what that something was. And that person was resolutely not talking about The Incident™.

Not with Yondu anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day cycle nine was much the same as the last eight, except Yondu nearly cried when Kraglin said more than just ‘yessir’ in response to an order. He’d only said ‘right away sir’, but it still caused a glimmer of hope to shoot through his mind. It was immediately dulled, though, when he looked at Kraglin, and there was nothing but lifelessness in his eyes. He carried out his task and never once returned Yondu’s gaze.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By day ten, Yondu was literally going absolutely insane. If he had hair, he would’ve ripped it all out by now. As it was, he’d gnawed a pretty substantial hole in the inside of his cheek, and the events of the night when The Incident™ had occurred were replaying themselves on a constant loop on the inside of his skull. Still, Yondu was no closer to figuring out exactly what bee he’d placed under Kraglin’s bonnet.

He hadn’t slept peacefully in days, hadn’t had a coherent thought in who knows how long. Heck, he couldn’t even get it up without feeling _guilty_ , let alone jerk off.

Kraglin’s clipped responses and redacted reports were becoming more and more annoying. Yondu couldn’t do anything without the crew catching on, (not that they hadn’t already, but it was important to maintain professional standards). There was, however, a limit to how long Yondu could grin and bare it for. He became that frustrated with the beanpole that he’d ended up sending him to the engine room to assess with the engineers how the fusion core was holding up.

Kraglin had the next day off, and Yondu didn’t want to admit it, but he was relieved, if only for his own sanity, that he didn’t have to see his scruffy face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When day twelve finally decided to announce its unwanted arrival, Yondu had decided that he’d had enough.

He spent his time on the bridge; mind half mutedly giving orders, whilst simultaneously scratching itself as to how to fix this _thing_ with Kraglin.

The only conclusion that he had come to was that he had to confront him. He wasn’t gonna apologise; the last thing he needed was an adamantium blade shoved through his patella (he knew how pissy Kraggles could get when Yondu was apologising for things he hadn’t even known he’d done). No, he was simply gonna have a gentle chat; captain to first mate, friend to friend, or whatever the fuck they were to each other.

 

When their shift on bridge had ended, Yondu followed Kraglin back to his chambers. The Hraxian kept throwing scared glances over his shoulder, but, predictably, he never said a word. He did, however, protest when Yondu pushed his way into his cabin after him, letting his annoyance be known with thrown up hands and an eye roll.

‘Listen here Krags,’ he said, trying his best to look menacing, ‘I ain’t apologisin’ just yet coz I ain’t got no flutarking _clue_ as to what I did to twist yer knickers so tight, but you’s gonna tell me what’s goin’ on here so’s we can go back to _talking to each other_ at the very least.’

Yondu watched Kraglin absorb the sound waves that his mouth had made. He watched Kraglin’s face as a myriad of emotions danced across it. He watched his lips as they decided whether or not they wanted to say the words they thought they should.

Kraglin must have decided he would say them, because he took a deep, steadying breath, skinny shoulders rising and falling beneath worn leather, and steeled himself. ‘You told me that you love me, sir.’ He said, looking so goddamn _defeated_ , that Yondu was second guessing himself as to whether he heard the words right.

He took a slow step back, stroking the stubble on his chin as he tried to come up with a good response. ‘…a-and that’s a _bad_ thing?’

The question caused Kraglin’s furry eyebrows to pinch, his face puckering under the weight of the words yet to come. ‘I thought it was for the best that… that we st-stop… things,’ he wringed his bony hands, skin creaky over his metacarpals as he peaked up at Yondu from his heads bent position, ‘Because… because I love you too, Captain.’

‘Yondu.’

‘W-what?’

‘Me _name_ is Yondu. I give ya permission to drop the formalities. Only in private though, Krags, don’t go getting too ahead of yourself.’ Yondu let a grin crack his face in two. A whole _two weeks_ he had gone barely speaking a word to Kraglin, and all because he told the idjit he loved him?

Well. His mouth had gotten him into trouble again, but at least this time it was speaking the _truth._

He dragged Kraglin in, pulling him close by the front of his jacket, and somehow managed to mash their mouths together. It lacked finesse, and definitely had too much teeth, but in the kiss was everything Yondu felt for the skinny Hraxian in his arms. He _loved_ Kraglin, with all his heart and then some.

‘Nex’ time somethin’ like this happens, ya tell me,’ he said, his words muffled by his first mates lips, ‘none a this radio silence bullshit, ya hear me?’

Kraglin laughed, the bubbles of air tickling Yondu’s cheeks. ‘Yessi… ah, yes… _Yondu_.’

They smiled at each other, lips still touching, breath mingling, skin warming skin, pink and blue. Yondu made good on making up for lost time by not wasting any now. He made sure to cover both of their next shifts and dragged Kraglin to the messy bed. This time, he was gonna make sure he didn’t say anything that would get him kicked out. This time, he’d be careful; if he wasn’t, his mouth might just propose to Kraglin without him knowing.

But then again, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

**Author's Note:**

> ilu mb
> 
> title from years & years' "real" 
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr.](https://alphathorinrock.tumblr.com/)


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